


Even If You're In My Mind

by Nevanna



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dreamscapes, Imaginary Friends, Imagination, Other, Post-Episode: s02e20 Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Mabel has never wondered where Craz and Xyler came from.  She didn't think that it mattered.





	Even If You're In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This story requires full series knowledge. The title is from the song "Across The Sky" by Emilie Autumn.
> 
> Dedicated to Elle, who knows why.

The sky is bright and cloudless, magenta puppies are frolicking on the sidewalk, and a medley of ’80s music plays from an invisible loudspeaker. Mabel sits at an outdoor table with Xyler and Craz, sharing a strawberry-mango-watermelon sundae with extra marshmallow topping and rainbow sprinkles. “I wish I could stay here forever,” she says.

“It’s bogus that you can’t,” Craz remarks.

“Totally bogus,” Xyler agrees.

“You know I can’t leave Stan and Dipper behind,” Mabel reminds them. “We have to figure out how to save the Mystery Shack from Gideon!”

“Go back and save the day with your trusty grappling hook. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I knew you’d understand.” Mabel already feels a little less scared. “I promise I’ll be back.”

\--

She doesn’t dream about the boys every night, but when she does, she wakes up feeling more energized than usual. She hums their songs while she gets dressed, dances down the stairs to meet up with Candy and Grenda, and while she and her brother clean up the dishes after dinner, she uses the silverware to tap out the rhythms that Craz plays on the drums.

She tells them about some of her adventures, but, at the same time, she wonders how much they know _without_ her telling them. Do they know that she almost used Old Man McGucket’s memory gun to make herself forget her summer romances? Can she call her time with them a “romance” when she only sees and talks to them in her head? If she tries to figure out if they’re figments of her imagination or another bit of Gravity Falls weirdness – the kind of thing that the author of Dipper’s journal might have studied – will they disappear on their own?

Mabel only asks herself these questions when she wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t fall asleep again. 

And then she and Dipper start to uncover Grunkle Stan’s secrets, and some questions suddenly become a lot more important than others.

\--

“May I talk to you for a moment?”

Mabel looks up from the scrapbook page that she’s decorating with glitter glue and watermelon stickers. “Absolutely, Grunkle Ford!” She holds up her bag of candy. “Do you want some gummy salamanders? They come in a new flavor: blue strawberry!”

“No, thank you,” Ford replies. “Have blue strawberries been engineered in this dimension, then? I’ve heard of them, certainly, but never tasted one…”

“The blue is less of a _color_ and more of an _experience_.” She wiggles a salamander in his direction.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ford clears his throat. “At any rate, that’s not what I wish to discuss with you.”

“Okay, I’m definitely detecting Serious Grunkle Mode. What’s the deal?” Suddenly she doesn’t feel like finishing the bag. “Is Dipper okay?” He and Ford have been hanging out a lot lately, but if something was wrong, her twin would talk to _her_ before anyone else, right?

“He’s fine,” Ford says hastily. “No need to be concerned. However, I noticed that both of you have made additions to my journal. One of your entries concerned a pair of, er, ‘dream boys’ that you encountered in the mindscape.”

Mabel beams. “Aren’t they scrumptious?”

“I suppose that one might call them that, if one were, ah, so inclined.” Ford sounds uncertain. “I don’t want to prevent you from exploring your… ahem… desires… but I want to make sure that you’re being careful.”

“Is _that_ what you’re worried about? Grunkle Stan already told me all about the birds and the bees.” Mabel thinks back. “I mean, he _thought_ he was telling Dipper, but I still heard it! Anyway, I’m not going to want to do… _you_ know… for a really long time! Not even in my head!”

Ford’s face is nearly as red as his sweater. “ _Stan_ told you,” he echoes. “Oh, that’s just _wonderful_.” He collects himself. “Well, that’s a discussion for another time. For now, it’s just as important to safeguard your psyche, especially against dreamscape entities that you don’t understand.”

“You think I need to be protected from them?” Mabel asks. “How come?” 

“The realm of the imagination can be tempting, Mabel, but it also holds more dangers than you realize. Your dreams can be used against you, and they’re not to be trusted. I know this from experience.”

“And I’m supposed to do what you say, just like that?” Mabel demands. He’s starting to remind her of the teachers who talked about her “overactive imagination” like it was some kind of embarrassing habit. 

“I’m _trying_ to help you…”

“Maybe you are,” she says, “but I know my own brain better than you do.”

Ford is silent for a long moment. “Very well,” he says stiffly. “Point taken. We’ll talk more about this when you’re less upset.”

Mabel bends over her scrapbook again, sifting through her pile of sticker sheets to find the neon musical notes, until she hears Ford’s footsteps leave the room.

\--

Mabel dances and dances to her favorite remixes until the sky starts to lighten, and then wanders down to the river to watch the sun rise. Another day of music and laughter and head-sized cookies is about to begin.

Two reflections appear beside hers in the water, and she smells the beautiful scent of cupcake icing and bubble maker. “You’re gonna stay with us this time, right?” Xyler asks.

“You even need to ask, handsome?” Mabel bumps her shoulder against his muscular arm. “What’s the alternative, anyway?” _Growing up_ , something in her mind whispers. _Facing my mistakes and trying to fix them._

“Whatever an alternative is,” Craz chimes in, “I bet it’s not nearly as awesome as a tree that grows singing roller skates!”

“Probably not,” she agrees. 

“I bet it doesn’t have best friends who’d rather spend time with you than anything!” Xyler waves at two familiar figures who are running over the hillside to join them.

“No…” Mabel whispers.

“I bet this ‘alternative’ is a total letdown!” Craz declares.

Mabel nods. “I guess you’re right.” Everybody in Mabel Land is forbidden from mentioning the outside world, where people _leave_ and things _break_ and she _can’t_ fix them… and whenever she starts to _think_ about the last hours and minutes and seconds before she ended up here, or wishes that she could say goodbye to Dipper, there’s always another flavor of ice cream to try, or another flying unicorn-cat who wants to give her a ride through the clouds. Her world has almost everything that she’s ever dreamed about at night, or drawn in her coloring books when she was little, or wished on shooting stars to find, and nothing here hurts or disappoints.

The sunrise is as beautiful as it is on every other day, glowing with all the colors that she can imagine.

When she’s laughing with this world’s Candy and Grenda, she thinks that she sees a yellow light in their eyes, but maybe she’s imagining that, too.

\--

For the first few days of eighth grade, Mabel digs her nails into her arm whenever she catches herself wishing for her fantasy world. If Dipper is next to her, he quietly takes her hand until the bright shapes fade from behind her eyes.

In her dreams, his own eyes glow yellow as he mocks her in Bill Cipher’s voice, reminding her of how gullible she was, screeching that she should be punished for causing the end of the world. Once, Xyler and Craz call her name, but she turns away from them, afraid of seeing the same glow in their eyes, and of the horrors that will spill from their mouths. 

And then her brother is shaking her shoulders while Waddles nuzzles her face.

She hugs the pig close, and Dipper whispers that he heard her screaming from across the hall. She’s pulled him out of enough nightmares that she doesn’t need to ask why he was awake, too.

\--

_“‘He might make the wrong choices.’_

_“‘Oh.’ Jonas was silent for a minute. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. It wouldn’t matter for a newchild’s toy. But later it_ does _matter, doesn’t it? We don’t dare let people make choices of their own.’_

_“‘Not safe?’ The Giver suggested._

_“‘Definitely not safe,’ Jonas said…”_

Mabel’s phone rings, and she puts down her book, tells Waddles, “To be continued,” and reaches over to answer the call.

“Hello there, Mabel!” Ford greets her. “I didn’t catch you during school again, did I?”

“No, it’s nighttime here,” she says. “I miss you and Stan so much! What’s going on?”

He tells her about the scaled creatures that are attracted by the Northern Lights, and she tells him about _The Giver_ and the school bake sale and the friends who share her lunch table, and then he asks, “How are your… er… dream boys?”

“I haven’t…” Mabel wasn’t expecting this question. “I mean, I guess it’s been a while since I saw them.” Before he can respond, she plunges on. “You were right about them all along. Bill took everything I ever dreamed up, and used it against me, and now…” And now she’s not sure whether it’s poisoned or she’s just outgrowing it, or whether her boys will still want to talk to _her_ , even if she wants to talk to them.

“I was also _wrong_ in many ways,” Ford says quietly. “I should have explained my concerns about Bill immediately, instead of speaking as if _you’d_ done something wrong. Your imagination, and the ways that you love, are important to you; they’re part of who you are… and I’m sorry if Bill or I, or anybody else, has made you feel otherwise. I don’t want you to be afraid of your own mind, not _ever_. All I ask is that you talk to me if you ever encounter something in your dreamscapes that you think you can’t handle.”

“I will!” she assures him, and adds, “I love a lot of things about _this_ world, too,” in case he’s worried that she’ll vanish into her fantasies again.

“I can tell.”

“Grunkle Ford…” The words squeak past the lump in Mabel’s throat. “Thank you.”

“I hope that you dream something good tonight.”

“I’ll try,” she promises. “Do you have time to talk to Dipper and me together? I want to hear more about the colors in the sky.”


End file.
